Choosing to be childless doesn’t mean I’m living a kid-free life. Oh no — I proudly hold the title of Aunt. And not just any aunt. I’m the anxious aunt without a clue, stumbling through family life one awkward hug and overanalyzed message at a time.
Before my niece and nephew came along, I thought being an aunt meant showing up with cute gifts, taking a few adorable photos, and heading home to a quiet night of Netflix and snacks.
Turns out, I signed up for emotional investment, constant second-guessing, and worrying about things like “Is it normal for toddlers to lick everything?”
Spoiler: apparently, yes.
The Myth of the Effortlessly Cool Aunt
You know the type — that “cool aunt” who wears trendy sneakers, knows every TikTok dance, and never breaks a sweat around kids. I admire her. I also secretly hate her (in a loving way).
Because me? I’m the aunt who panics when handed a baby (“Where do the arms go?”), forgets how to fold a stroller, and accidentally teaches the toddler a new word I shouldn’t have said in traffic.
The truth is, there’s nothing effortless about being an aunt — especially when you’re constantly overthinking how to do it right.
Anxiety and Family Gatherings: A Love-Hate Story
Family gatherings are where my anxiety thrives. I love seeing everyone — the hugs, the laughter, the food (mostly the food). But my brain treats every gathering like a high-stakes social experiment.
Did I bring an appropriate gift? Or worse, did I remember to bring a gift?
Did I just call my nephew by the dog’s name? (Ah, yes. I did. I called the names of every dog we have until I got to his name. So yeah, facepalm moment.)
Did I say “you too” when someone said “happy birthday”?
Despite my inner chaos, those moments when the kids run toward me screaming “AUNTIEEEE!” make it all worth it. Their tiny hugs somehow make my heart forget to panic for at least three full seconds — which is basically a record.
The Childless-by-Choice Perspective
Being a childless aunt by choice sometimes means people assume I’m missing out. But honestly, I think I’ve found the perfect balance: all the love and laughter, none of the sleepless nights or diaper explosions (well, I do get my fair share of diaper duties when they are in my care).
I get to be the fun sidekick, the unofficial cheerleader, and the snack supplier. I get to witness their growth, celebrate their milestones, and quietly leave when the sugar rush hits.
And yes, sometimes I wonder if I’d make a good parent — but then I remember how long it took me to fill prep a milk bottle in a moving car, and I’m reassured.
Finding Joy in the Uncertainty
Here’s what I’ve learned: you don’t need to have a clue to be a good aunt. You just need to care. Loving them comes instantaneously, but the care, the appropriate care you think they need, will constantly need fine-tuning.
You don’t have to know the best parenting strategies or how to manage a tantrum (although chocolate bribery sometimes helps). You just have to show up — even if you’re tired, nervous, or secretly Googling “what do I do if a baby eats Play-Doh.”
Because being an anxious aunt without a clue means leading with love — and laughing through the rest.